


we got a groovy thing goin'

by weatheredlaw



Series: love isn't always magic [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Blindfolds, F/M, Mentor/Sidekick, Older Man/Younger Woman, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone out there is going to be so disappointed when they find out this is happening. Probably Steve. Clint would put big money on it being Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we got a groovy thing goin'

**Author's Note:**

> i shouldn't listen to simon and garfunkle and write porn

He wishes she wouldn't stare.

Correction. He wishes she wouldn't stare and stare and _stare._ He wishes she would move. He wishes she would touch him. Or if she won't, he wishes she would go. It wouldn't be awkward. They could make it work. You either fuck or go, Bishop, he wants to say.

He doesn't.

"Clint--" she chokes. " _Clint._ "

"Hey, girly girl. S'okay. S'good. We're good. You don't hafta--"

"I want to."

 _Then do something,_ he wants to say. 

He doesn't.

He could move in, take control. He'd be good at it and she'd probably appreciate it, to a certain extent. Clint's a good teacher and Katie's a good student. He wants her to be happy, be good and safe and kept close. He wants big beautiful things for her. He wants her to be loved. He wants her to be the hero she wants to be. 

He wants her to kiss him. So much.

"Can I--"

"Your rodeo, Katie. Your show."

She swallows. It's not her first one. Just her first one with him. 

"Come on, Hawkeye. You got this."

"Easy, Hawkeye," she says with a laugh. Finally. "Easy."

She slides the hankerchief between her fingers, fiddling with the stitching and worrying her bottom lip. Clint will not think words like _adorable_ , he will not think words like _adorable_ , he will not--

Blindfolded. 

Not his idea. Hers. It's okay, he assures himself. It's okay.

He wouldn't let a lot of people take away one of the only things that keeps him where he is. But he'd let her.

Says something about him, probably. About Kate. Something. 

Blindfolded.

She pushes him onto the bed and the mattress shrieks under his weight. Another laugh. A sigh. 

"I swear to God if you don't have condoms I will _tie you to this bed_ and then _leave you._ " Her voice is thick with want, but Clint's pretty sure she'd follow through with it. He's been blue balled for less. She reaches over him, fumbles in the bedside table that is actually, like, a filing cabinet, and apparently unearths her prize from all the shit he's tossed in there. 

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic," she says dryly, and finally kisses him.

They've kissed before. Sloppy, drunk kisses (drunk Clint, sober Katie, he's not the worst human alive, not yet) that end in really frustrating Hamburger Helper dinners and walks to the drug store for cough syrup or something like that. She's a good kisser. A great kisser. But she kisses like a kid. Scratch that. Clint will not call her a kid while she's taking his jeans off and toying with his cock just under the thin cotton of his boxers and sucking a friggin' _hicky_ on his hip. Like, who does that?

" _Come on_ \--"

"Yo. Who's rodeo is this?"

"Dammit, _Katie._ "

"Mmhm."

She rakes her nails down his bare chest, catches the hem of his boxers and tugs them down. He's acutely aware of the fact that, one, she isn't naked, and, two, he won't get to see it happen. That she'll be naked and he'll be inside her and where's the fun if he doesn't get to watch?

"You look frustrated."

Clint grunts. 

"Okay, cowboy." Someone needs to stop the rodeo references. He hears the quiet shuffle of her clothes coming off. The zip of her jeans. The gentle _shick_ of her bra coming undone. He wonders if her hair is up. He wonders if she's shaking. He wonders if she's nervous. He wonders if she wonders. Wonders if this is okay. If this is good. If this is right. If this is wrong. 

_I'd like to phone a friend, Regis._

"What?" She pauses over him.

"Monologue inside my head. Slipped. Sorry."

"Jesus, Barton." She straddles his waist. "Still don't wanna sleep with me?"

"I'm going to regret this in twenty minutes either way so maybe we should just get on with it."

"Gonna take you twenty minutes to get off?"

" _Bishop._ " God he _wants_ her. He wants her so bad and she's teasing and she's laughing and she's wrapping her hand around his cock, rolling on the condom before sitting up and saying, so softly he might not have been meant to hear it--

"I always knew you were bluffing."

Katie sinks onto him, takes him deep in almost one go, so fast she shouts, swears and throws out her hands to brace herself, stretch herself.

"Kate--"

"I'm good. _I'm fine._ Aw hell, _fucking_ hell, Barton."

"Yeah, you _sound_ awesome."

"Just...just gimme a second." She digs her nails into his chest. "You good?"

"Wow. _Wow._ "

"Fuck you." She pushes herself up and slides him almost entirely out, then comes back down again. "Okay. Okay I'm good. I'm really good."

Clint can't see a thing, but he can't feel a thing, either, except her cunt sliding over his cock again and again. He sits himself up, spreads a hand on her back and she latches onto his neck as he helps her, rolling his hips and hitting her deep, dragging out every noise. 

He knows someone is going to kill him if they find out about this. Odds are on Steve. Parker, maybe. But definitely Cap. 

This is probably one of the least honorable things he's ever done. And he's done some pretty busted shit.

"I really wanna see you come. _Katie_ , please. Please, you gotta--"

"Why?"

"What?" Clint huffs and gasps when she stills, and he knows she's so full, so full. "Jesus, Katie--"

"Why do you want to see?"

"S'what I do. S'my job."

He feels her fingers twitch over the blindfold, and when it's off, he's sort of shocked.

Hair down, he notes. Mussed, sweaty, sticking to her face. Eyes glazed. Pupils blown. Mouth open. Face flushed. Smiling.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"Jesus, you're gorgeous."

"I'm close," she manages. "I'm really close."

"Lemme help." He drops his hand between her legs as she moves, taking him again while he thumbs her clit, pushes against her until she keens, head thrown back and moaning, absolutely perfect and awful and perfect. She clenches around him and Clint's not too far behind her, coming and wishing he'd done this sooner and wishing he hadn't done this at all.

He's a ruiner. He's a ruiner. He's a ruiner.

"Oh man. _Oh man._ " Kate pushes herself off and falls back, hanging off the edge of the bed, her legs are spread and he can see _everything._ He likes it. Steve can go to hell. Clint is going to hell.

He was going to hell before he fucked Kate Bishop. Before she fucked him.

Little Hawkeye on Hawkeye action.

"Dude." She sits up. " _Clint._ "

"I gotta warn you, dollface. I'm pretty fab."

"I picked up on that." She shifts and sits up. "Tuck me in. I'm tired."

"Sure thing, boss lady."

"Thanks, boss man."

Clint smiles as she kisses his cheek and curls naked under his quilt. "Anytime."


End file.
